


Brutus

by musicmillennia



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Dom/sub, Leonard Snart Is A Nerd, M/M, Multi, Savitar Thirsts for that Snart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 18:00:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10859184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/musicmillennia
Summary: Savitar wants a freshly returned Leonard Snart to join him.





	Brutus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prouvairablehulk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prouvairablehulk/gifts).



> prouves has finals and wanted some savitar/len bondage stuff so uh i gave it a shot???? Happy Reverse Mother's Day from Dragon Mom to Hatchling

“So.”

The word echoes as if Len’s standing in a castle, not ruins of an apartment building. There aren’t any junkies or homeless people around to answer. He can guess what’s happened to them.

“Kept yourself from the Dark Side until Iris died, huh? Makes a guy feel special.”

He’d barely had enough time to recover from being literally kidnapped from death before an address was stapled to a body. An unnecessary death, put there only to send a message. Now, Len’s all for dramatics, but the Barry he knows quails at the thought of killing, even if he’s already done it.

“But I suppose having one of us breathing was enough. Or do you not remember when I died? Too much Barry for you?”

A mechanical whir replies, “You are alive now.”

Len reaches the center of the room. His cold gun, brand new, purrs a familiar tune in his hand. “Technically, I guess I never wasn’t. Ain’t time travel funny?”

“Time travel is my greatest weapon.”

“Oo, better hope Frosty doesn’t hear that. _Really_ , Savitar, teaming up with another ice villain? That’s just cold.”

The monster creeps into the weak light. Len’s fingers flex on his gun.

“You called me Savitar,” it says, mildly impressed.

Len smirks. “Everyone’s been tryin’ to call you by a name you’re not worthy of having. I got no intention of making that mistake.”

Savitar growls. “It is Barry Allen who is not worthy of _me_.”

“Keep tellin’ yourself that.” Len jerks his head over his shoulder. “Pretty sure yourself ain’t gonna believe you. What’s left of you, anyway.”

Savitar’s armor is white-hot. Probably from all those electrons bouncin’ around. Len carefully masks his expression at the sudden charge.

“I am more than that imbecile will ever be,” it snarls.

“That why you called me here?” Len asks. “Want to get some real ice on your side, Megatron?” He widens his smirk. “Or did you just miss me?”

Savitar straightens. “Even in the future, I’ve yet to meet a mind like yours, Cold. You and I will be free of _both_ of them.”

“And Frost?”

Savitar waves a careless claw. “A placeholder. I needed to bide my time before I could have you.”

He reaches out to Len, who takes a careful step back.

“I’m flattered,” Len says, “but when I make deals, I prefer to see the other side.”

Savitar’s voice grinds, like he’s trying to laugh but has forgotten how. “As you wish.”

The monster curls like a wolf ready to pounce. Its back opens, and out comes the sheepskin, scarred as it is.

“Nice shiner, kid,” Len says.

Savitar grins and walks on lightning. Len allows it to touch his face. He doesn’t try to see his Barry. Knows there won’t be anything to find. But damn, couldn’t the casing be just a little more scarred, a little more unrecognizable?

“I haven’t seen you in…” Savitar hisses another not-laugh. “You still look the same.”

“I moisturize,” Len drawls.

 _That’s_ a laugh, albeit a perversion of one. It’s short, sharp as a blade edge, and the tarnished smile disappears just as quick. Len says nothing.

Savitar licks its chops. Human-shaped talons dig into Len’s cheeks, grating down to his collarbones. “Join me.”

“Got that part,” Len says, “anything else?”

Savitar leans close. Its breath stinks of blood and ozone. “I want you to come back to _me_. Not just this.”

There’s a minute tremor under its fleshy guise. Could be the twisted facsimile of its Speed Force, but Len’s willing to bet it’s got nothin’ to do with that. He brushes his and Savitar’s foreheads together. When he retreats, Savitar’s parted lips try to chase him.

“Why just me?” Len asks, feigning fixation on those lips. “You could have both of us. Break the multiverse, find an Iris—”

“ _No_ ,” Savitar snaps. “That bitch is nothing to me.”

Len’s eyes whip back up, just managing to shove his surprise down in time. “Really, now?”

Savitar grins, and somewhere, Len’s sure, the Speed Force is crying. His own bones feel like they’re turning to ash. “This one, every version, would hold me back. But you—you and I, we can go anywhere, do anything. You don’t let your emotions get in your way.”

“I’m surprised you’re not commenting on the fact that I sacrificed my life.”

Savitar traces Len’s lips. “Why would I do that?” it asks, “That tedious Oculus was holding you in its web. You did it for your own freedom.”

Len decides it’s best to let it roll with that logic, even though he’d had been very much aware that he was not gonna get out of that Oculus alive.

“No, Snart,” Savitar hisses, “you’re the only one who has the right to be at my side.”

“Charming,” Len says. “So you want me and all my perks. But I’m sensin’ a hierarchy here that I don’t like.”

“You make the plans, I follow them,” Savitar says, “and if I violate our partnership, you can just ice my legs off. I heal fast.” It says it as casual as anything.

Len takes a silent breath. His smirk feels brittle. “Then you just might be worth somethin’ after all, _Savitar_.”

Savitar practically vibrates. “Len,” it croons, a hollow joy in its voice, “I knew I could rely on you.”

“I haven’t agreed yet,” Len says. “One last condition. A trade.” Savitar tilts its head. “You get me, Frost is put in STAR Labs, unharmed and alive.”

Savitar rumbles. “She’s nothing compared to you. It’s not an equal trade.”

“Thought you didn’t care.”

Another dead laugh. “That’s true. I accept.”

Len holsters his gun and holds out his hand. “Then we have a deal. Savitar.”

The monster yanks him into a kiss. Its heat is almost unbearable, but Len clenches his fingers on its shirt and says nothing. Savitar paws at him, biting and scratching everything of Len it can reach as if it wants to tear him open and crawl in. Len wraps further around it and tries to keep breathing and responding like he’s supposed to.

Then it’s over, and the beast is nuzzling Len’s cheek. “Come with me.”

At least with Barry, Len at least knew they were running. There’d even been a bit of a thrill in it, the sensation of being _more_. But with this thing, he’s left with nothing but a sick feeling and completely new surroundings.

This apartment still stands strong. Looks like a pretty average one bedroom, complete with a cramped kitchenette and small living room, all decked out in faded blues and greens. Next to the living room window is a small TV, and sitting on the ratty blue couch before it is none other than—

“Killer Frost,” Len drawls.

Frost grins with pretty blue lips. “Captain Cold. Finally left the goody two-shoes?”

Len shucks his jacket and hangs it up by the door. Might as well get comfy. “What can I say? I gotta thing for bad boys.”

She’s gone before she’s done laughing.

“Where’d you get the new place?” Len asks when it’s back.

Savitar leaves its suit by the vacated couch. “My little pigeon left it behind.” Ah. The defaced corpse with the letter. “The annoyance is gone, per your conditions.”

Len’s boots are placed under the jacket. His cold gun is the last to put away. Len ignores the alarms blaring in his head as he saunters up to death, leaving his own armor behind.

If not for the psychopathy, Savitar could almost look like an overeager teen on his first run to third base. If not for everything about this scenario, Len could’ve laughed.

“Then you got me,” he says.

Another sick roiling, and Len’s on a bed. It’s dark, but for Central City’s lights peeking through the cheap blinds to the right. And, of course, there’s Savitar’s glowing eyes. The color is the barest shade off from the Oculus.

“Take your clothes off,” Savitar orders.

Len sits up and starts with his shirt. He almost jumps when he finds a slew of new scars puckering all over his torso. Guess he’d caught some of that explosion after all.

But he can’t think about that. Len moves to his belt. When all of his clothes have been tossed aside, he sits on the edge of the bed and waits.

It doesn’t take long before the new spider web scars are being traced with greedy fingers.

“I’ve waited _so long_ for this,” Savitar pants.

“What can I say?” Len says, “I’m worth the wait.”

“ _Fuck_ , Len. Get on your knees.”

Len does. Savitar sinks its nails behind his head, ten sharp pin pricks on his skin.

“You’re going to let me mark you,” it purrs.

Len obediently works on its pants, gauging how fast he should go by the pace of its breathing. He opens his mouth and allows himself to be choked on its cock.

Savitar vibrates, shaking both of them. “Stay still,” it orders, and it’s the closest Savitar has ever come to whimpering.

Len closes his eyes and tries to think of Barry and Iris.

“Eyes open!” Savitar snarls.

Len licks the underside of its bulging veins in appeasement. It was worth a shot.

Savitar pushes him back, petting his worked jaw. “Keep still.”

It puts one hand on Len’s shoulder and takes Len’s. Savitar jerks itself off with Len’s fingers, and it’s barely ten seconds later that Len’s forced to shut his eyes against hot come splattering all over his face. Then it wrenches Len’s head back to paint his neck and chest as much as it can.

Savitar moans like a dying animal. Len braces himself when it finishes—sure enough, as soon as it’s dry, it hauls Len back onto the bed and whirls into blue.

Len blinks, and he’s bound to the iron bedposts. His cuffs are made of a material he’s not familiar with.

Savitar grins maniacally from where it’s settled on his stomach. “Now you can’t leave.”

Without permission to speak, Len can only raise a sardonic eyebrow and pointedly lick at the come on his lips.

“Oh, I know you don’t _want_ to,” it replies with feral glee, “because you _chose_ me. I wonder: was it hard to do?”

Len raises his other eyebrow.

Savitar howls. “I forgot how you could make a pun without even talking.” It smiles adoringly at Len. “I’ve forgotten so many things about you. It’s positively _criminal_.” It laps at Len’s soaked chest. “But you’ll remind me.”

It reaches under the mattress, brandishing a bottle of lube. Looks like a fancy brand, nothing Barry or Iris would bother getting. Savitar coats its whole hand, then the other, which rings bells in Len’s brain.

He knew he’d have to come. Has to show interest, after all, get Savitar comfortable. But villains have a thing with dragging things out. Len’d thought Savitar would’ve wanted to save the main event.

Then again, Barry’s never been one for patience, and Savitar was born from him. Guess they gotta share something.

“I’ll have you tonight,” Savitar whispers, “I’ll have you every night, until everyone knows that you’re mine, that you _want_ to be mine.”

Its vibrating hands wrap around Len’s cock and tease into his hole. And while Len’s literally made a career off of being cool under pressure, he has limits. A moan startles from his throat.

Savitar moans with him. “That’s right, Len. Let me hear you. Just me.” It starts babbling away on that same track, and Len tunes it out as best he can.

It curls its fingers in him, and the names almost, _almost_ slip out. Len turns the ‘B’ into a bite of his lip, the ‘I’ into a particularly loud moan, and if Savitar notices, it shows nothing on its face. Too busy rambling about having Len as its willing possession.

When it gets just shy of too much, Savitar’s hand retreats, only to be replaced by the bare flesh of its cock, hard as before. Len suppresses a hiss at the sheer heat of it, taking calming breaths through his abdomen.

Savitar ruts into him like a beast in heat. Len keeps still and pliant, because in the end, that’s what this creature wants: a doll with a familiar face plastered on it, one it can manipulate and string up.

And everyone knows what Leonard Snart thinks about strings.

Len gives into the orgasm. That, at least, is pretty damn nice. Not the best first round after coming back from the dead, but he consoles himself with the fact that it’s for a good cause.

Savitar roars loud enough that Len’s surprised the neighbors aren’t banging down the door. Maybe there aren’t any neighbors left to hear. It collapses on Len and whispers his name until its limp cock has nothing left.

It kisses him again, softer than it’s been all night. “Forgot that too,” it murmurs.

Len gives it another kiss, because with how this night’s going, he figures why not? “Gonna let me shower?”

Savitar hums. “No. Not yet.” It does untie him, though. “I’m tired.”

It sounds almost—amazed. Len wonders the last time Savitar’s actually slept. He tugs the sheets over them both and rolls onto his side, letting it pull him under its chin. A heartbeat bats Len’s forehead and doesn’t slow.

They lie in silence for a while, listening to Central outside. It’s an absurd parody of all the nights Len, Barry, and Iris have shared.

“Len,” Savitar whispers. “You know I love you, right?”

And it sounds _so much_ like Barry in that moment that Len has to squeeze his eyes shut.

“Yes,” he replies, “I know.”

In its own twisted way, Savitar does love him. Or at least clings to the idea of it. Len supposes it has little else to hold on to.

Savitar sighs. “Good.”

Len keeps his eyes closed. He knows he can’t sleep.

 

When Savitar wakes, blood spits from its mouth.

Cold smirks. “Sorry, Savitar. You’re fast, but you’re a little too furious for my taste.”

The knife twists.

“Well, well. Looks like you’ve got a heart after all.”

Len leaves him cold.

 

Barry’s on him as soon as he’s through the door. He’s warm, soft, and inviting. Iris slides into place next to him, filling a space Len can’t believe he ever took for granted.

“Where were you?” Barry exclaims.

“Don’t tell me you followed that note,” Iris says.

Len tugs them to the stairs and leads them outside. There’s a parked car on the sidewalk, and he positions himself to block the neighbors’ view.

Their faces when Savitar’s iced corpse is revealed make it all worth it.

“But…he was me,” Barry says.

“That wasn’t you,” Len replies coldly, “Trust me.”

Iris hugs him tight. She whispers in his ear, “I’m going to bend you over the counter.”

Len smirks. “That a promise?”

Barry swallows. “Maybe—maybe you’re right.”

“’Course I am,” Len says, “That’s why you brought me back, ain’t it? Oh, and Killer Frost is locked up in that little illegal prison you got.” He clamps on Barry’s collar. “I suggest you call your merry band.”

Barry looks at Savitar’s body. “But I—”

“Barry,” Iris snaps. “Inside.”

Barry ducks his head. “Yes, Miss West.”

Iris pokes Len’s side. “You too. By the time I get back to the kitchen, you better be ready.” Her kiss tastes like cherry chapstick.

“Yes, ma’am,” Len says.

He slams the trunk shut and goes home.

**Author's Note:**

> I have literally never attempted Savitar before, so??? my bad??


End file.
